


The Day is Just as Terrifying as The Night

by Krasimer



Series: Dreams of You 'Verse [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Falling In Love, I will always find you, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part four.</p><p>Some more of the company starts showing up.</p><p>Finally figuring some things out, Smaug starts doing what he set out to do -- Save everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smaug's Interlude

He thinks that maybe he's named George in this life.

Nothing sounds right to him, nothing sounds as normal as the heavy burden of his original name. His shoulders struggle to lift when he hears it, but it gives him a sense of how guilty he should feel. If he still feels like there should be a sword pressed to his neck, bleeding him dry, then he knows that he is still Smaug.

Smaug the Great, Smaug the Terrible.

He's watched the world change. He has seen the way that humans eventually forgot the world that he was from originally. They have forgotten the men who almost dragged the world into the afterlife with them over the matter of a Ring.

He was there for that.

He was there, dying over again in the muck of the battle of Helms deep, watching his fellows fall around him. (It's entirely possible that he was named Brathedon, son of Heledon, or maybe it was the other way around.) He remembers cold, inky darkness surrounding him before the world was reduced to the blurred square of vision that accompanies being a tiny infant child.

But now there are beacons in the black behind his eyes.

There are torches to banish the darkness.

One of them he remembers, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly. The Hobbit that had dared to clamber invisibly through the chamber filled with gold. Had escaped from in front of his enormous snout with his life intact.

None of them are themselves this time around either, the damning Arkenstone the cause of everyone's troubles.

It had rested against him, near him, under him, beside him, for a century before the Hobbit had retrieved it and passed the curse it carried along.

He had been tangled into the heart of the mountain, and the heart of the mountain had not taken to this very calmly. It had fought against being pulled from the stony cavern it had been born in, and it had never left the mountain when he had descended.

As if tugged away by an unseen hand, it had fallen into the sea of gold.

The Arkenstone poisoned everyone that it touched, the entire line of Durin falling to the angry curse. It cursed them all with life after life, never reaching the End Realms, the Grey Havens, where ever they might have ended up.

It kept them from being at peace.

There is hope for him though, he realizes as he watches the no-longer-dwarves find each other again. If he can warn them of   
the danger coming their way, then he'll be able to remember his name. If he can warn them, then they can survive and make sure that their timeline never reaches the paths that it once took.

The creature hunting them down might make it difficult, but if he can just pull them all together and warn them in time, they will all survive this time. 

He thinks he remembers the vile creature that hunts them all. Long limbed and grey, sharp teeth that are few in number. To the humans of the new age, the creature will look like a fairy tale monster, something borne of nightmares and impossibly brought into the real world.

To him, the creature stinks of an influence that it should never have had.

Ancient and insane, the creature stalks all of the people he is currently working to protect. It calls for the ring that was destroyed long ago, gnashes sharp teeth together and mutters about Bilbo Baggins. Curses the hobbit. Screams about a Frodo Baggins.

Swears to bleed them both dry.

The dwarves are not in as much danger as the hobbit is, but the creature will occasionally circle around to look at them, trying to reach into their lives with the gnarled claws that could potentially slit their throats. 

If Smaug can't quite remember his own name in this life, the creature is all but forgotten to the flow of time.  
It's name has been forgotten, even by it. 

There is nothing he really knows of this creature, all of his knowledge is second hand, old, dusty with lack of use. He knows bits and pieces, nothing that would really make up the whole picture. The fragments of knowledge aren't useful, except for one thing.

If the creature was sensitive to sunlight, far back in history, now it's much worse for it.

He has seen the crackled skin where it couldn't quite escape the burning light of day. He has lured the creature out into the sun a few times.

There is still strength, so caution is still required. 

If the creature got its claws on any of the dwarves or the hobbit, it could still tear them apart. They are human.   
It isn't.

There is no limit to the strength it possesses. They have no way of defending themselves from it completely.

Smaug stretches, feels the phantom echo of his wings. "Time to go." he murmured, tugging his hair behind his ears.

He can at least do some good in this life.


	2. Stolen From My Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Thomas

It's a while before he's aware of anything other than the blackness. 

William wakes up to water dripping onto his face, the scratchy sound of something scrabbling around in the dark alerting him to the wrongness of the situation. Forcing his breathing to stay steady, he allows his eyes to open slightly to see where he is.

The first thing he sees is the overgrown plants surrounding him.

There are blackberry brambles less then a foot from his face, and his lips tighten over the sound of fear he unwillingly makes as he sees them. There's a second where he is struck with the image of his face being shoved into them, his eyes preemptively aching. A pain around his wrists alerts him to the fact that they are tied together, probably wrapped with more of the same brambles that are in front of him.

Behind him, where he can't see, is the noise again, like wet cloth being dragged over rough rocks.

With a brief deep breath, he looks around slowly.

There, in the corner, hidden mostly by the darkness and the shadows that the trees and the broken concrete wall provide, is a creature made of sharp angles and grey skin. There are glowing eyes the size of his fist, but that is just about the only thing he can recognize as a facial feature in common with a human. The knees are bent sharply next to what he guesses are shoulders, and he can feel his stomach rolling.

It looks like a marionette, little more than bone covered in skin.

"Hobbitses..."

If he hadn't been listening, he would have guessed that the noise he had just heard was something from the engine of a car. It had a disturbing tone to it, like the sound of a deflating balloon being played over the sound of a chainsaw. 

"Not a hobbitses anymore." if it was able to snort in disgust, that's what sounded like had just happened. "Not anymore, Precious."

William felt his breath catch in his throat, followed by the urge to expell all the contents of his stomach. "I know you." he whispered, fear digging its claws into his brain. "You're..."

It hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Shuts it!"

"Why do I know you?" William tried to sit up, eventually rolling onto his back and gaining enough momentum to do so. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't remember. Remembers the Precious." a snarl, showing a small number of very sharp teeth. "No riddles this time, Bagginses."

Before he even has time to blink, William feels a hand in his hair, yanking his head backwards. Feeling dangerously close to a broken neck, he relaxes his shoulders and his spine, allowing himself to hit the ground again, the grip on his hair loosening. No time to breathe, he kicked outwards, getting a good hit on the creature's side.

The outraged scream that follows is almost worth the pain in his ankle.

He scrambles to the side, getting to his knees and then to his feet. For a moment, there's a fumbling claw at his heel, a grip that almost tightens enough to bring him back down. Then he runs through the small patch of sunlight and the hand is gone, more screeching rising in volume as he struggles his way up to the road and runs into someone.

In the same second that he tries to push them off with his shoulders, he can feel a hand on his elbows, turning him around. A moment more and he's hit with a fresh wave of pain, but his hands are free.

Breathing deeply, he rubs at the tender and bloody skin, looking up at the man in front of him.

His jaw drops open softly when he realizes that it's the man in the red jacket, from the alleyway on the day he met Thomas.

"You..."

With a slow smile, the man rests a hand on his shoulder and guides him away. "It will be dark out soon. It can travel in the dark. And I think we both know it will follow you if it can."

Nodding, William allows himself to be pulled away.

 

XxXxX

 

It's been a day, and Thomas is standing outside the door to a small house that looks well cared for. 

He has been knocking twice every three hours, trying to get the man who is supposed to be inside to answer the door. It seems, however, that William either has seen him and isn't answering, or has gone out for the weekend and isn't going to be back for a while.

"Uncle, are you sure he lives here?"

With a sigh, he rubbed at the spot between his eyes, raising a brow at Faran. "Yes."

"How did you find him?" Kaden pipes up, grinning. "Did ya stalk him?"

Growling, Thomas extended a hand to knock on the door again, two knuckles raised. He paused, however, when he saw two people approaching. One of them was William, the other was Smaug. Williams wrists were bloody, and he could feel something in his chest tightening. 

It felt like he was going to snarl.

"Uncle?"

He turned to Kaden, whose mouth was open. "Kaden?"

"I..." his eyes were wide, his fingers twitching at his side, as if he were reaching for something that wasn't there. "You were yelling at him. Screaming about betrayal..."

Thomas frowned. "We haven't talked more than a few sentences, and you're saying that I've yelled at him?"

"Technically, you have."

Sighing, Thomas turned to Smaug. "When?" 

He winced as William turned around and stood behind Smaug. "When have I yelled at him?"

"Well for starters, you are yelling right now. Still quiet, in a way, but you are getting angrier. Your temper was always the downfall for you." Smaug turned slightly, resting a hand on Williams shoulder. "It is alright, Hobbit."

If he weren't still alive, Thomas would swear that his neck was broken from how fast he turned around. "Hobbit?"

"You did not find him. I had to." with a small smile, Smaug pulled the shorter man out from behind himself. "The creature had him, he is bleeding and terrified, and you are going to take him inside and settle him into his bed. Your nephews are going to be quiet and not eat so much of the food in his refrigerator."

Thomas tried to argue, except the hand over his mouth stopped him. "And you are not going to yell at him. You yell, he will run away from you again. I think we both know that you do not want that."

Smaug's claws were digging into Thomas's cheeks, drawing droplets of blood. Eyes wide, Thomas looked over at William, who was still trying to hide from him. "I don't want him to leave."

"Then protect him." Smaug whispered, taking Thomas's hand in his own, smiling again. "Protect him this time."

He pulled Thomas towards William, joining their hands together. "There. Time to rewrite some things."

 

XxXxX

 

William was shivering, rubbing at his arms. 

A teacup clattered as it was set in front of him, the spoon on the saucer nearly falling off. Kaden grinned apologetically as he sat back and curled up on the couch, poking his brother until he moved over. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm fine." he smiled, picking up the cup, taking a small sip. He nearly dropped it when a blanket was tucked in around his shoulders, a towel set on top of his head. "I guess it must have dragged me through water? I don't really know what he did to me, I've been unconscious for a while."

"Since yesterday?"

Thomas's voice was right behind him, and for the first time since they had seen each other after the airport, it didn't make him nervous. Every sentence Thomas had spoken had filled him with a fear that wasn't there now.

William looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I think so. It all got a bit fuzzy after..."

"The car accident."

Nodding, he took another sip of his tea, smiling as the warmth of it spread through him. "I didn't get to ask you how you were there. One moment it's just me and a van veering towards me, the next you're pulling me out of the way and tugging me off to the side."

"We were walking." 

Everyone turned to Faran, who had spoken up finally. "We were out walking because Uncle wanted us to calm down before we had to go to a meeting. We're supposed to inherit the company when he passes it down to us."

"I saw you all going to...Somewhere. At the airport." William looked at all three of them. "Was that a business thing too?"

"Yeah."

"What company?"

"Heirabore."

William actually spat out his tea, creating a liquid splatter across the neatly polished coffee table in front of him. "Heirabore? And what exactly does Heirabore do?"

"We're a..." Kaden looked at his uncle, eyes downcast. "I don't really..."

Thomas strode over to him, putting a hand on the back of his neck and tugging him in for a hug. "It's alright Kaden." he turned to William and sighed. "We're a telecommunications company. We have a couple of side businesses as well, but mostly there's mobile phones and internet connections."

When William didn't say anything, Thomas went on. "Why?"

"Because your company name sounds like a word from a nightmare I used to have. Only there is was spelled..." he reached around the arm of his chair, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. Slowly, like he was afraid, he wrote out six letters.

"E, R, E, B, O, R." he murmured, then looked up at Thomas. "This is the word that used to be in my nightmares, as well as someone who looked an amazing amount like you. The three of you, in fact."

"Why did they look like us?"

William shrugged, a grim look on his face. "I don't know. Somehow they just did."

"That's..." Thomas kneeled next to the chair that William was sitting in, resting his hands on the arm. "I would say strange, but I think that in the long run of things, and thinking about what has been happening lately, this doesn't even scratch the surface."

"True." William laughed nervously, clutching at the small tea cup still in his hands. "I think that nothing will ever be as strange as this is right now. Of course, now that I've said that..."

Thomas cracked a grin, scratching at his beard. "Now that you've said that, of course we're all doomed."

"And doesn't that make me feel better." William licked his lips, catching Thomas's eye. 

He wasn't prepared for the darkened color of them, or the fact that the man was visually following his tongue.

 

XxXxX

 

Now that Smaug has brought it up, Thomas can vaguely remember his hands on someone's hips, sharing their heat.

What's funny is that the short man with the light brown hair, the one currently sitting in front of him, is a dead ringer for the even shorter man in his head. The facial features aren't quite right, and the hair color isn't exact, but other than that, he would swear that it was the same man.

Except that he doesn't want it to be, because the man he sees in his head is the one he screamed at. The man in his head is the one he pushed away, even when he should have held him close, and if it's the same man, then he could kick himself for how stupid he had been. William Bernherdt was someone he had just met, but the hobbit Bilbo Baggins was someone else entirely.

Except that he couldn't convince himself of that.

Watching the man interact with his own nephews, he felt something at the back of his throat. Feeling like someone was clutching at him, trying to choke him. 

If he hadn't been such an idiot, this is what he could have had.

He shook his head, feeling sick. Standing, he walked away from the other three people in the room, until he was alone in the kitchen. 

"Where did that thought come from?" he muttered, "Where did any of those thoughts come from?" Thomas stared at the window above the sink, glaring at himself. "Alright now. Who were you?"

Rubbing at his forehead, he sighed. "And why do you remember being such an ass?"

"I don't know why you remember that, but I certainly remember you being an ass."

Thomas jumped, then turned to see William standing at the door to the kitchen. He was barefoot, his pants covering the tops of his feet and leaving just his toes visible. Eyes wide, hair ruffled, he looked every inch the hobbit he used to be.

"I just..." Thomas growled, glaring at the floor now. "I'm being struck with this urge and it's completely inconsistent with how I treated you the last time we saw each other."

"What urge is that?"

"...Honestly, this." 

Thomas stepped forward, kept stepping forwards until he was flush against William. The shorter man tilted his head back, not stepping away, and smiled. Leaning down, slowly, like William was going to run away, Thomas pressed his lips against the other man's.

Somehow, they ended up against the wall, William lifted off the floor, Thomas's hands under his knees.

"Sorry, was that a little too forward?" Thomas breathed against William's lips, the words coming out in a harsh panting gasp of breath.

William nodded, pressing their foreheads together. "A little. I don't mind though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is as good because I wasn't listening to music while writing it. It felt strained and I might go back and edit it later.


	3. Given Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demetrius and Oliver

The first thing he noticed was that the library was too quiet.

Oliver looked over his shoulder from where he was re-shelving books, frowning when he didn't see anyone. Normally, on a day like today, the library would be busy. People would be using the wifi, there would be school kids doing reports, some of them panicking about how little time they had left to write the report due the next day. It irritated him that they left it for so long, but he couldn't really blame them. There was, however, something more important than the idiocy of high-school students.

It shouldn't be this quiet.

A few minutes later, he was aware of a noise, like something repeatedly throwing itself at the back door.

Pausing again, he looked up, seeing the section of chairs where people could sit and read. The only person he could see in the entire building was what looked to be a man with black curly hair. He was sitting down and reading a book, quietly and alone. He also appeared to be unaware of the noise. 

He looked both familiar and completely strange, what little of him Oliver could see.

Outside the door, another noise started, something like a scream, except that it couldn't have possibly been a human sound.

Before Oliver could even move, the man with the black hair stood and pressed a hand to the door. "You really should run now." he said, turning slightly to be able to see Oliver's face. "I do not think that Dwalin would appreciate you being injured."

Oliver nodded, taking a few steps backwards, then turning around and running, aiming for the front door. 

There was the sound of breaking wood behind him, the snarling scream growing even louder.

 

XxXxX

 

"Alright, where are yeh?" Demetrius muttered, standing outside the library and waiting for Oliver. He had called and said that his shift would be running later, but now it was three hours until closing time, and Oliver was still inside the building. 

"Demetrius!"

He turned around, catching sight of Thomas coming towards him, looking panicked. "Thomas? What-"

"Don't ask questions, just go inside, stop at the door, call for Oliver. Get him out here, don't panic." Thomas took a gasping breath, leaning over his knees. "There's something after us, and I don't think you would appreciate your boyfriend being pulled apart."

A loud crash made the both of them turn towards the library, Demetrius already moving.

"Oliver!"

Throwing the door open, he was confronted with the weirdest thing he had seen all day.

Oliver stood, arms out, muscles tense, holding a book stand in both hands, looking like he had just swung it. He was breathing hard, teeth clenched together, and a man in red leather was near him, looking at the entire scene wide eyed. On the floor, sprawled and unconscious, was a grey creature, a rapidly swelling spot darkening on its forehead.

For a few seconds, no one moved, no one spoke, and all that anyone could hear was Oliver's shuddering breaths.

"I do not think that anyone accounted for you." the man in the red spoke up, "Especially not him." he waved a hand at the creature on the floor.

Demetrius pulled the book stand out of Oliver's hands, pressing a kiss to his temple. "S'alright," he muttered, pulling him closer and wrapping him in his arms. "Yeh did good."

Turning to the man, he growled. "What in the hell IS that thing?"

The man gave him an apologetic look, then started gathering the creature up and tying its hands together. "This is what has been chasing Mister William Bernherdt. This is what I have been trying to keep away from you, because it will try to eat you." he grunted, hefting it onto his shoulder. "But I think I will worry less about Or-...Oliver from now on. Seems he can take care of himself."

Turning to Demetrius, Thomas smiled nervously, holding up his hands. "There are some things I have to explain now."

"Would they have anything to do with why my brother is suddenly busy all the time?" Oliver looked between the two, frowning. "He probably thinks we don't notice, but he suddenly stops visiting, or not calling, and I know something changed."  
Thomas looked at him, a frown on his own face. "Who is your brother?"

"Nicholas Ritter. He's the middle child of our family, I'm the youngest." Oliver grinned goofily when Demetrius picked him up and started walking out of the library. "My brothers pitched a fit when they found out about him." he laughed as he tugged lightly on Demetrius's beard.

Demetrius himself was smiling, adjusting Oliver's legs around his waist as he walked, hands supporting his thighs.

"So I suppose that this is your boyfriend?" Thomas smirked when Demetrius glared at him, Oliver's arms around his neck. "This is Oliver Ritter?"

"Yeh are a bit of a dick."

"That's a yes."

 

They walked to Oliver's house, Thomas explaining a few of the smaller things on the way.

When they actually got to the house, however, he mentioned the name of the man who had helped Oliver in the library.

Oliver had dropped a plate at the name, eyes wide and mouth set in a hard line. "Smaug?" The grip he had on the handle of his kettle tightened as he stepped forward and ignored the shattered plate on the floor. "You're telling me that was Smaug?"

"Oliver?" 

Suddenly, as if it hadn't happened, Oliver was back to normal, fussing over the broken plate and putting the kettle on the stove. 

Giving him an odd look, Demetrius bent down to help him pick up the pieces, lifting up Oliver's hand and kissing his knuckles softly. 

"Sorry." Oliver muttered, pausing and leaning against Demetrius. "Don't know quite what just happened. Felt like I wasn't me anymore, just for a second. Or maybe I was me, just for a second. Can't really tell."

Demetrius pulled Oliver into his lap, holding him close. "S'alright. Already said that, but it is. Yehr gonna be fine."

"You two are awfully cuddly for two people who just started a relationship." Thomas looked between them, like he was searching for something. "How long have you known each other again? I've heard it from Demetrius, but not from you and I haven't heard the story in a while."

"We've known each other for-" Oliver broke off, frowning again. "I..."

Demetrius was just glaring at the floor. "It feels like longer." he muttered. "Like it's been..."

"Decades." Oliver finished, resting his head on Demetrius shoulder, smiling when he nodded. "Like we've known each other for ages and we just had to find each other again."

"Then there are some things I have to tell you." Thomas looked at both of them, "And it's about you two as well as myself and William."

 

XxXxX

 

They were lying in bed, Oliver wrapping and rewrapping his hands in the sheets. 

"So I'm Ori, huh?"

Demetrius shrugged, pulling at his hair softly. "Yehr Oliver. Yeh might be Ori, but for right now, yehr are Oliver Ritter, and I am  
Demetrius Ingles and nothing can stop us bein' who we are." He let his arm fall across Oliver's hip, then pulled him in closer. "And who we are depends entirely on who we want to be."

Oliver laughed, a small smile on his face. "When did you get to be so good advice and proverb spilling?

"Blame my brother. He's always like that." Demetrius pushed Oliver's hair out of his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

"I remember Balin was always Thorin's advisor." Oliver shrugged, "Not much different now."

They both paused, then Oliver pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

"What?" Demetrius looked startled, an eyebrow raised.

Oliver shook his head, sitting up and pulling his hair back from his face. "I really don't know why I just said that. Why did I just say that?"

"Yeh just did." Demetrius sat up as well, a hand on Oliver's chin as he tilted his head around. "Are yeh alright? Nothin' hurts, no bright spots in yehr vision?"

"Nothing is wrong, my words just kind of...They weren't what I wanted to say." Oliver looked at Demetrius. "Dwa-...Demetrius?"

"Yeh were gonna call me Dwalin." An odd look went across his face. "And there's a temptation ta call yeh Ori."

Oliver curled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them and sighing. Without saying a word, Demetrius wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nuzzling their cheeks together. They sat like that, clinging to each other, in silence for a while longer.

"Dwalin." Oliver whispered, looking at his hands. "You're still Demetrius, but you're also Dwalin. I'm still Oliver, but I'm also Ori. You're a warrior and a prison guard, I'm a scribe and a library worker."

Demetrius smiled, hands playing with Oliver's hair, braiding it slowly. "I think we can make this work."

Pulling his hands away revealed two braids, one on each side of Oliver's ear. Carefully, he tucked the ends of the braid into the rest of his hair, making it so they wouldn't come undone. 

"If we were home," Oliver whispered, eyes drifting shut as he leaned back into Demetrius's side. "You'd be proposing to me."

"Maybe that's what I mean."

Oliver sat up, alert all of a sudden. "What?"

Shrugging, Demetrius looked steadfastly at his feet, looking like the wrong words would make him run. "It meant it then, why can't it mean it now?"

"You...?" Oliver grinned goofily, blushing as he thought about it. "Oh my brothers are going to kill you."

"Eh. I made them have plenty a' reasons ta not like me around you." Demetrius gave him a half smile, pulling him even closer as he whispered, accent thickening with each word. "Least a' which is me askin' ya to be mine f'rever."

When Oliver said nothing, just pressed their cheeks together and chuckled, Demetrius continued. "Like it should'a been."

 

XxXxX

 

Demetrius raised a hand to the door, then paused and looked at Oliver. 

"Are yeh sure yehr alright with this?" 

Smiling, Oliver tucked his hands into his pockets, then nodded. "I'm good with it. He requested meeting me, I'm not going to disrespect Balin."

"That's probably a good idea." Smirking, Demetrius rapped heavily on the door, "And yeh called him Balin again."

One of Oliver's hands slipped from his pocket to smack himself in the face. Breathing deeply as he heard footsteps coming closer, he stretched out his neck and sighed. "Should I just hand over a dollar every time I call him that?"

Demetrius kissed his temple, tugging the braid out of his face. "Nah. I remember now, you remember now. Just don't call him it to his face unless we're sure he remembers."

When they heard no movement inside the house, Demetrius knocked again, louder this time. The door unlatched quietly, opening to reveal Bartholemew on the other side, smiling gently at his younger brother. When he spotted Oliver, the smile grew wider and a little more self satisfied.

"This is him, then?"

Oliver looked between the two brothers and raised an eyebrow. "Has there been gossip about me?"

"Not as such, lad." Bartholemew pulled back and waved them inside, chuckling as he went. "Little bit of a spitfire, aren't yeh? That'll be good for him, maybe call him to order."

"I think I've got him handled." Oliver laughed, following them both through the door as Demetrius's cheeks turned a light red color. "Besides, he's a big sweetie."

Bartholemew turned on him, both eyebrows raised, glancing over at Demetrius, then back to Oliver. Nodding slowly, he smiled, then turned and started fixing tea. "Do yeh like tea or coffee, Oliver?"

"I like tea." 

There was that smile again, like he knew something they didn't, and he wasn't telling. "And what do yeh take in your tea?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow, then looked at Demetrius. "I take sugar and milk?" He looked back at Bartholemew, face contorted into a confused expression.

Sighing, Demetrius pushed Oliver softly backwards until he plopped down onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "He takes it with warmed milk, even though it doesn't allow the tea to cool prop'r'ly. He like his sugar mixed with warm honey as well, because he likes it sweet and warm." he turned back to Oliver, pulling the chair next to him out and sitting down, a hand on his boyfriend's knee. "He asked because he makes customized drinks for people."

Bartholemew cleared his throat, glancing briefly up from what he was doing.

"He's reminding me to tell yeh that he only does it for people he considers family." Demetrius shrugged, focusing on the checkered pattern of the tablecloth. "It means he approves of yeh." 

Oliver blinked for a moment, then turned to Bartholemew. "Thank you." he smiled goofily, confusion melting off his face.

"Demetrius, would yeh mind helping me with somethin'?"

Grumbling, Demetrius stood up and pushed his chair back, then followed his brother to the garage.

 

"Demetrius, he's very familiar." 

Demetrius raised an eyebrow, frowning at his brother. "And?"

Bartholemew sighed, holding up his hands in placation for silence. "Please just let me finish. Yehr not too old to make you sit in the corner, little brother." When Demetrius stayed silent, he continued. "I've been looking into what we talked about with Thomas. I didn't find anything until last night, when a man in red came by the house. He was calling himself Smaug."

Eyebrows lowering, Demetrius growled. 

"He told me that yeh two are going to need a little watching over for a while. There's a creature on the loose that came after Oliver." Bartholemew rubbed at the back of his head, tugging lightly on his hair. "I'm goin' to guess that this Smaug is the one and the same as we knew of back then."

"He is." Nodding, Demetrius held his brothers gaze. "I'm still hearin' the unasked question there."

Nodding, Bartholemew picked something up and handing it to Demetrius, spoke again. "Is Oliver the same as you knew back then? Is he Ori?"

"He is." Demetrius frowned at the milk crate in his hands. "Why do yeh ask?"

"Because," Bartholemew picked up the second milk crate, an assured smile on his own face. "I know where Oin and Gloin are. Yeh confirming that it's all the same folk, that helps me to confirm that it's the same with the folk I know." Bartholemew exited the garage, bumping the door open with his hip. Demetrius stood there, staring after him for a second before he shook his head and followed.

"Of course he knows." he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I lied about giving you guys the scene of the dinner with Oliver's big brothers next. 
> 
> Again, I say it's like the characters have their own minds, because they do. I meant to write that scene, I swear I did. I had it planned out and everything.


	4. Orpheus and Eurydice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's wrong with Blaise.

Stretched out on the bed next to him, he had to admit that Blaise looked amazing in the dim morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

"Mmmh." Blaise scrunched his nose as the breeze lifted the edge of one, spilling sunlight onto his nose. Reaching forward,   
Nicholas shielded his eyes, smiling when Blaise's face instantly relaxed. 

"C'mon Blaise, time to wake up." 

"Nori, nooo..." Blaise murmured, pulling the pillow over his head and sighing. "Too tired. World can go away."

Nicholas laughed, slipping out from under the blankets. "Well I have to go into work. Apparently, someone likes my tattoo work more than they like my business partners work or any of the other artists that work there."

Blaise grumbled, then arched his spine off the bed, pulling himself out from under the pillow. Sitting up on the bed, he sighed as he looked at Nicholas. "I said the world could go away, I didn't say you could." He smiled when Nicholas looked at him, watching the other man get dressed.

"Sorry, kind of have to." Nicholas perched on the edge of the bed and kissed Blaise quickly. "Also, my brother invited us to lunch today. I'll run a little late cause of work, but we're meeting at the cafe over on fiftieth and Valley."

With a roll of his eyes, Blaise stretched. "Right, sub-par biscuits, wilted lettuce, and sour chocolate. Good to know." he grabbed his comb off the edge of the bedside table. "Unless they have new owners and actually care about that stuff now?"

"Do they make anything good?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow, halfway through pulling his hair back into its braids. "Or should I tell Oliver to find a different place?"

"They make a decent potpie. Just don't order the clam chowder."

Nicholas leaned into his side, wrapping his arms around Blaise and sighing. "I think my little brother might remember something. He sounded different when we talked on the phone. If you don't want to go, I understand and I already told him you might not be able to make it."

"What do you mean he sounded different?" Blase frowned, "Might he be hurt or something?"

"I don't think so." Nicholas nuzzled his cheek, tugging briefly at Blaise's earlobe with his teeth.

"Why not?"

"Because he knew about you. He invited you specifically. Asked for you as Blaise, but the hitch in his voice suggested he was going to say a different name." 

Blinking, utterly confused and still half asleep, Blaise tilted his head. "And?"

"I haven't told either of my brothers about you yet."

 

XxXxX

 

Blaise walked through the door of the cafe, spotting a man with gingery colored hair, facing away from the door and talking animatedly to the man sitting with him.

The stirrings of memory that he had been dealing with lately whispered through his mind, first identifying the two men as Ori and Dwalin. It wasn't until about fifteen seconds of remembering them as a warrior and a scribe that he realized he should probably address them as Oliver and...

He shrugged, walking across the room as confidently as he could manage.

Dwalin was the first to notice him, and he pushed the chair across from him out with his foot, a silent invitation to sit down. 

Oliver watched him, lips pressed together like he was fighting to keep from laughing. Chuckling, Blaise pulled the chair out the rest of the way, hunching over the table and resting his chin on his hand.

"So..." he looked at Dwalin, then at Oliver. "What's his name?"

Oliver mimicked the position, grinning. "This is Demetrius Ingles this time around."

He stuck out his free hand. "I'm Blaise Udell. Formerly Bofur of the family Ur, and you are Oliver Ritter, formerly Ori of the brothers Ri."

With a snort, Demetrius leaned back, an arm resting on Oliver's chair. 

Oliver tangled their other hands together, smiling when Blaise nodded at him. Blaise sat back, pulling his bag off and tucking it under his chair. 

"So why did you call a lunch meeting?" he looked between the two men, "Because I'm guessing that you didn't do it to meet your older brother's boyfriend."

"I called in a lunch meeting," Oliver smiled, and for a second, Blaise could see the young dwarf who had threatened a dragon and hit a Warg in the eye with a stone, "Because there are some things that need to be fixed. Between the four of us, we have every last member of our company accounted for."

When Blaise raised an eyebrow, Demetrius cleared his throat, the tattoos on his neck and the back of his head wrinkling with the motion of him leaning forward. "My brother has Gloin and Oin. I have Ori, Nori, Dori, Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Balin, you have Bifur and Bombur and Nori, Ori here has his brothers and occasionally Bilbo Baggins."

"And together we make fourteen. So the company of Thorin Oakenshield is found." Blaise smiled, leaning forward on his elbows.

 

XxXxX

 

When Nicholas walked through the door to Blaise's house, he frowned when he didn't hear anything.

Normally, when he was going to stay the night at the man's house, he was greeted. Blaise had told him when they were lying together in bed that he liked knowing where Nicholas was when he walked through the door.

To have the room be empty, and even worse silent, it made him feel like the world had been turned onto a different axis.

Panicking a little, Nicholas set his stuff down, nearly jumping when he heard a crashing sound from the den. He ran towards the sound, pushing open the door in time to see Blaise pitching an entire chair across the room, face contorted into a snarl. The braid that he normally kept well-groomed was swinging wildly across his shoulders as he turned and grabbed for another thing, tufted and ratted.

"Blaise?"

The instant that he said it, Blaise dropped to the floor and wrapped his arms around his head. "I can't..."

Nicholas crossed the room in four long strides, kneeling next to him and pulling him in for a hug. Stroking Blaise's hair, he tugged the elastic band out of it, combing his fingers through it. When the man in his arms seemed to calm down a little, he kissed the top of his head. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this..." Blaise whispered. "Two lives shoehorned into my head and it hurts and I can't..."

Nicholas stroked his hair quietly, then sighed helplessly. "I'll try to make it better. I don't think there's too much I can do..."

He paused, then felt around his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and flicking through the contacts until he reached his little brothers number, hitting the send button. Holding it to his ear while he cupped Blaise's cheek, he waited for the ringing to end and for Oliver to pick up. When the telltale noise sounded, he didn't even blurt out a greeting, just his question:

"Has anyone seen someone who could be Gandalf?"

 

He'd left Blaise in bed, given him one last kiss before heading out the door.

One of Oliver's regulars at the library was an older man, with long silver hair that was always pulled back into a braid or a ponytail and apparently, the man was a dead ringer for the wizard. It was a slim chance, but he was going to take it, because Blaise needed help.

When he got to the library, Oliver waved him over and smiled.

"How is he doing?"

Nicholas ran a hand through his braids, sighing and resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. "I don't think he's very happy right now, the way he described it, it sounded like his head was going to split open." Swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat, he shook his head. "I'm not sure he's going to be okay if we don't do something."

With a shrug, Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose, "The man I told you about? I asked around about him, he's been coming here forever. People I asked said that he has been a patron of this library for at least twenty years. There's pictures of him from the eighties, so it's been even longer than that."

"One: That's more than a little bit stalker-like, little brother." Nicholas smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Two: Thank you for helping me."

Oliver gave him a half smile, "He makes you happy, he's been with you for almost literally forever, and he's nice." 

"Excuse me?"

They both turned to see the very man they had been talking about only a few feet away from them. 

"Would you mind telling me your names?" The man asked, "Because you two remind me of some people that I knew, a long time ago."

Nicholas's jaw dropped, looking between his brother and the man. "How come you came over here?"

The man sighed, tucking his fingers into his pockets. "I heard you talking about me. Not very many people who have come to this library as long as I have. Now, your names please?"

"I'm Nicholas Ritter," he said, still wide eyed as he stared at the older man, hand reaching out to tug on his brother's sleeve. "This is my brother Oliver."

"Is he your younger brother?"

Oliver nodded, looking like he was trying to process the scene. "What's your name?"

"My name is my business until I find out who you two are."`

"If you're going to call me something other than Nicholas, the name is Nori, my little brother is Ori, and we're looking for a wizard, Gandalf, because I have a feeling that he can help my boyfriend who is currently suffering migraines. His other name is Bofur." 

Both Oliver and the other man looked at Nicholas, who was breathing a little heavily and clutching the edge of the counter tightly, enough to make his knuckles go white.

"And why," the man met Nicholas's gaze. "Is your boyfriend having migraines?"

"Can't really be sure." he muttered, "I think it's to do with the fact that he has two very different lives shoved into his head."

The man smiled, then nodded. "You have done well, haven't you Nori? I am indeed the Wizard, Gandalf the Grey." 

"Can you help him?" Nicholas pulled his hands away from the counter, now clenching at the edge of his shirt. "Another life, another time, I might have had different concerns, but now, all that matters is him."

"Undoubtedly," Gandalf began, "He is not the only one suffering."

 

XxXxX

 

There were a few days of time passing in a blur, but the next thing Blaise was aware of was Nicholas sitting at the edge of the   
bed, holding his hand and reading out-loud from a book that was sitting in his lap.

The first time he tried to speak, his throat felt like it was coated in sand paper, but by the second attempt he managed to make some kind of noise. He must have, anyways, because Nicholas stopped reading and set the book aside, leaning in to meet his eyes.

"Are you feeling any better?"

Blaise nodded, taking a deep breath. When he still couldn't make himself speak, Nicholas frowned and leaned around their hands, nearly fumbling, to pull the glass of water Blaise usually kept on the bedside table towards him. 

"He said that you might have a bit of trouble talking." Nicholas whispered, letting go for a second to help sit Blaise upright. "Here, drink some water. It might help."

A few deep gulps drained the glass and Blaise smiled. "What happened?"

"I came back here, to your place, and I found you literally throwing furniture across the room. You picked up an entire armchair and pitched the damn thing." Nicholas gave him a nervous smile, brushing some of Blaise's hair out of his face. "Scared the crap out of me. Couldn't figure out what was happening until you explained as much as you could."

His throat still feeling scratchy, Blaise yawned. "Why am I alright now? I remember feeling like I was on fire."

"We found Gandalf." Nicholas made a noise in the back of his throat. "I still don't know if we found him or if he found us..."

"Wait, he's back too?"

"According to him, he never really...Died." 

Blaise didn't have a chance to absorb that information, because Nicholas had leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, wrapping a hand in his hair. 

"Don't do that again." he whispered, lips brushing Blaise's forehead. "I swear I will play the part of Orpheus to you as Eurydice, but I would prefer not to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm a geek!
> 
> Also...The comments I've been getting are awesome and every new one just kind of makes me squeak.
> 
> The updates are faster right now because I'm at my cousins house, and they have wifi. I don't have wifi at home.

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT I FEEL SO MOTIVATED TO WRITE THIS STORY.
> 
> It's like everything I hated about my writing in the past is finally gone. Plus, I actually have an audience now, instead of feeling like I'm shouting in an empty room. 
> 
> I love the comments I have been getting and I would just like you all to know that I actually blush everytime I see all the numbers go up. A comment will see me curled around my computer or my Ipad, giggling and making really excited noises. 
> 
> It looks a bit silly, but I don't think there's any dignity for me in this world.


End file.
